This was a year without spring in upstate New York.

Technically, this is incorrect, as spring-like things transpired: trees bloomed and pollen burst from them like toys from an overstuffed piñata, and now summer is here: insects are everywhere—which would be adorable if they were kittens, but they are not, they are buzzing insects—and the deer and the bears are hanging out wherever their fancy takes them, because there is food everywhere and invitations that were not sent out by humans were ignored because grass in fields and berries on bushes is invitation enough. But winter snows and cold dreariness extended past their usual expiration date, and today is only the second day above 70°F since summer arrived last week. It is raining as I type. I am wearing a sweater. This feels like a hostage note … send heat.

Jen and I may go to the ocean this weekend, hence this re-written piece from months ago:
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